just calm the child
by plethorah
Summary: In which Regina and her mother interact, and Regina and her son interact. Oh, and Emma learns some stuff too, eventually. But mostly Regina lives. Slight trigger warning for Leopold/Regina, but not really as a focus.
1. Chapter 1

i.

She is four years old and trying her best to "Make Mother proud"; but even at that young age, she already knows she's failed miserably when her Mother's eyes glow unnaturally, and she feels the constriction of magic cross her limbs, suspending her in midair. Whimpering once, she concentrated very carefully on what her Mother was saying, explaining how exactly she'd messed up - because only a sincere apology would fix this. (Not that she was entirely sure what sincere meant, but by Mother's tone of voice, it was very important). Father had promised her a pony after her next birthday, it was the only thing he'd ever fought Mother for - "Even a princess needs to know how to ride, Cora." - and there was no way she would let Mother take that away.

"Regina, love, are you listening?" Her Mother's voice, angrier than ever before, sounded and she felt the magic wrap her up even tighter.

"Yes, Mother, I'll be good." It hadn't taken long before her response had become as automatic as breathing. Eyes down, head bent, 'don't look at Mother, don't look at Mother', every muscle in her body tense - it wasn't hurting now, but it didn't require much for the older woman to transform from Mother into Monster. Even Father hid then.

Mother finally let her down, after all it had only taken one Lesson for Regina to realize that Mother was much easier to deal with after getting her own way. She'd left Regina suspended for three candle-marks, nearly four, and so far Regina had managed not to anger Mother, to that degree, again. "How many times do I have to tell you, Regina? Princesses do not run in the castle."

"Yes, Mother, sorry Mother." She bowed to Mother like she'd been taught and made to dart away from the older woman, who had tutted quietly, causing Regina to slow to an almost dignified walk.

Cora frowned as her daughter walked away, that foolish, stupid husband of hers coddled the girl too much and it was showing in her habits. His love was going to spoil the girl, which would ruin all of Cora's carefully laid plans. Sometime soon, before the child had grown too much into her unseemly ways, she'd have to reign her in, and harshly. She sighed as the girl picked up her skirts and turned the corner away from her, she could hear the pitter patter of her shoes as she, even though previously warned, ran. Yes, she shook her head, grinning silently, she'd teach her daughter eventually, and what a glorious lesson that would be.


	2. Chapter 2

ii.

"Momma, please don't hurt Gonturan." She stood her ground in front of the horse her mother was threatening, legs spread wide, shoulders back- Cora was glad she'd taken the deportment lessons to heart, but still her own daughter's disobedience was too much for her.

"You're ten Regina, you don't understand-" Cora started, flabbergasted when her normally shy and unassuming daughter dared to interrupt her.

"No, Mother, I don't think you understand. My horse is-" Regina's eyes widened and Cora nearly laughed upon realizing her daughter wasn't intending to speak out of turn, wasn't intending to interrupt her.

"Enough, child." Cora waved her hand, calling upon her dark powers; the tendrils of magic wrapped around Regina, pulling her up from the ground and held her in the air next to the barn. Regina fought for a moment, calling out for Mother to spare her horse. Cora didn't care to hear her, didn't want to spend the next candlemark or more listening to her daughter cry. Using the same magic she turned and faced the child, one hand up and squeezing ever so gently.

(It had only taken that one mistake, almost a year and a half ago, when Regina had lost consciousness, fallen to the ground when released and injured herself: her lip splitting almost in two- that Cora learned not to go that far. Regina also learned very quickly that soiling her clothes by playing in the dirt, with the baker's daughter no less, was in no way acceptable).

Regina hung there, gasping for a few minutes, just long enough for Cora to see the panic starting to flare up in those brown eyes that were so like her own. Cora toyed with the idea of removing Regina's heart then and there, watching as tears fell from the girl's eyes- all over a silly horse. Just because she 'loved' it.

She stepped towards Regina, hand still extended, "Love is weakness, dearest. In time you'll understand."

The girl had the audacity to gasp out, "Momma, no please not Gon-"

"Stop." A single word, the magic wrapped around her mouth and nose, and Cora dropped her hand, anger spilling across her features. A flick of her wrist and the girl was thrown, almost recklessly into the doors of the barn, they flew open and she was held there, in the middle, unable to move, unable to speak, and almost unable to breath. "Now, you get to watch, dear, what love will get you in the end."

The stablehand brought Regina's horse to the front of the barn and blanched beautifully as he saw Cora standing there. His eyes flew to Regina; his head bowed and he held the lead out to the older woman without a word.

"I want all of you gone, until tomorrow. There's nothing here for you- you'll receive double your pay." She stared at him as she spoke imperiously, "I want you all gone within the next quarter candle-mark."

His eyes flicked up to catch Regina's, who was looking on in silent horror, tears still streaking her face, "Yes ma'am."

And with that her mother turned and entered the barn, leading the young horse behind her, and, with a final sickening thud that Regina heard echoing within her dreams years later, used her magic to shut and bar the doors. After forcing Regina to watch the horse her father gave her driven to the ground cruelly and then suffocated, she left the child there hanging in midair for the rest of the day, that night, and only returned the next morning. She lead a sufficiently cowed Regina past the remains of Gonturan, pleasantly surprised that the child was clear eyed as she sat next to her on her bed. She'd already removed her clothes before bathing the girl, personally, and used magic to dress her in a nightgown. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she held Regina to her breast and began petting her hair, cooing softly to her daughter.

"Now do you see, Regina?" Cora crooned to her, questioning. Ensuring the girl learned her lesson. "Your love did nothing for that animal. Because love, my dearest, is weakness."

She settled Regina into her bed and made her way to the door, "I'll come and get you for dinner, Regina, now sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

iii.

And then she is almost eighteen when she saves a little girl on a runaway horse, and before she can breathe, before she can even think of a way to turn down the king, turn down all these things he's offering her - her mother's accepted his proposal; Father is not really worth much these days, except for the same bland, indifferent love he's always given to her. (Though it's never enough to actually actively stand up to his wife.) And she's crying [crying], because Daniel loved her and she loved him, and it was beautiful and perfect and Mother ripped his heart out. She killed him.

She's trying to figure out how to add together the two pieces of the world that she's holding. On one hand she's been offered to the king, her value is solely in her ability to mother his daughter and take his seed and bear his children. (This causes her some anguish in the back of her mind- it shouldn't be like… this, she thinks, her daughter is going to decide who SHE wants to marry. And he's at least as old as her mother. Take his seed and bear his children. She can't think on it too long though because she wants to believe she's worth so much more than what her womb can produce. Maybe she won't have to, he has his beloved Snow after all.)

On the other hand, her mother has killed Daniel. She knew her mother was… difficult… but she's still Mother. And Gods, she doesn't need to explain that to anyone else does she? She watched Mother reach into his chest, take out his heart and turn it to dust. For a second, sitting there next to Daniel's body, she'd imagined Cora would take her heart as well, would turn her into so much bone and meat and dust. She had never realized Cora could make her into nothing so easily. After almost eighteen years, you'd think she'd have learnt.

It isn't until her anger is so great, growing like a forest fire in the summer months, that her hands reach out and push the older woman through the mirror. She stares at them like they've moved of their own volition, as though she hasn't realized that the only freedom she'll ever have in this life will be when she's in control of her own destiny. She stares at the mirror and realizes that the King, her mother, anyone, can dress (and undress she thinks unhappily) the outside as they see fit- but they cannot change the inside. She may be ensnared in this little honey pot- the wedding is so soon- but that doesn't mean she has to drown. Regina Mills is her mother's daughter, and if her mother has taught her one thing- it's to survive.

When Leopold makes his way to her bed chamber, after the drunken revelry that their wedding celebration has turned into, she is as prepared as she could be. Her mother spoke to her, briefly, on her duties (Make him happy Regina, that's your only job. Cora's eyes were dark and tumultuous. That's all you're good for now.) and offered her only bit of helpful advice, about opening herself to him so that it would hurt less. She shivered, hair undone, waiting for him to speak- when he gestured to her with his wine goblet and the liquid inside slopped over the side.

"Make yourself ready, wife." He drank deeply from his goblet and stepped towards the bed, trying to unbutton his clothes with one hand.

"I've- I've never done this before, Sire." Regina kept her eyes on the goblet, on the little drops of red wine dripping down the side of the King's golden goblet. They were so small and insignificant, and yet enough wine and even the King got drunk.

"Don't worry," Leopold leered at her, even as he nearly threw his drink onto a side table. With both hands free, the clothes fell off much faster and she found herself unceremoniously hoisted onto the bed, with her best nightgown hiked up around her waist. His touch leaves bruises that taunt her for days.

She could taste, and smell, the wine on his breath as he maneuvered his bulk up onto the bed and onto her, "I've done this plenty."

As the man began his huffing and puffing, his painful entrance and exit, she can only stare blankly at the wine dripping freely down the side of his goblet- by the time he's muttered his dead wife's name into her ear and his sweat has coated her belly and thighs, the cup is as dry as she is.


	4. interlude

interlude:  
>[she is all anger and darkness and pain, carving bits of her soul out to grasp for happiness. her husband dead. gone. she is no longer a possession to be grasped and held, she is so much more than her womb and her ability to look beautiful. her mother is gone, though she secretly hopes dead, she is no longer the <em>potential for so much<em>. snow is gone, though not dead, and it's this young woman that she pins dreams of recompense. she dreams of apologies and a hardness of heart and thickness of skin that she just doesn't possess.

she dreams of winning, of finally being enough.]

[she finds him, a little boy with dark hair, just like hers. she doesn't know what it is that makes it so easy to love children, but she suspects it's in the way their every need depends on her. the first didn't take, and she ignores Owen the same way she ignores Leopold and Mother and Father and- she nearly chokes on her rage when the woman at the adoption center asks if she is sure she wants a boy and not a girl.

(because what if she's like Regina. what if she picks up Regina's habits, and _what if she is evil_? What if Regina's darkness rubs off on her daughter and winds around her neck and turns her lips dark and adheres to the back of her fingernails? Regina doesn't want daughters, there's no way to protect them. She wants a son, who will love her and be strong in the way that someone who's never been scared will be. No, no daughters for her.)


	5. Chapter 5

iv.

Henry is nearly four when he finds himself on the losing end of a fight with a doorway. His eyes closed, and running from Regina, nearly naked, down the corridor away from his bath and straight into the door knob that's finally, exactly, eyebrow height on him. For a split second Regina _panics- _tries to summon up enough power to teleport herself and her son over to the hospital and nearly dry heaves when the spell doesn't work. He wails at her, as she falls to the floor next to him and pulls his little body into her lap- desperate to see if he's alright.

"Henry, Henry, Henry," she holds up three fingers, and waves them at him, "How many fingers am I holding up, Henry?"

He squints at her and rubs his forehead, wincing as his tiny hand hits the already forming goose egg, "Free, Momma, free fingers."

She peers into his face, into his eyes, looking for tell-tale signs of concussion, wondering who she could call to ask about it because Whale, while servicing the general populace, was not a pediatrician. Even if she trusted him to look after her son. It's hard to see past Henry's tears, and even as she's watching him, gnawing on her bottom lip, trying to decide what to do, he sits up throws his arms around her neck and just cries into her neck. Her fingers twitch and her hand comes up to hold him closer. She wonders if her mother had ever done this with her- wonders if there was a moment when _hurt_ hadn't come from her mother, and instead this burgeoning _love_ and _safety_ and _everything_ she feels when it comes to Henry.

All she knows of mothering, she learned from her mother and she was never any kind of a mother to Snow- too close in age to be more than a big sister, a glorified nanny really. But instead of turning Henry away from her bedroom when he has a nightmare, she follows him into his bedroom and trying to use what weak magic remains to show him the things of his nightmares are not to be feared (she'd learned very quickly not to wake Cora up, though her father would occasionally be moved to return her to her room, quietly of course, and sit in the rocking chair next to her bed singing quietly in the language of his land, even though her mother strictly forbade it. It's one of the few memories she has of her father going against her mother so blatantly. If she's honest with herself, it's the only memory of blatant disregard). She suspects it is more her careful touch, and singing, that magics away his nightmares.

Instead of learning to mother, she thought, brushing her lips against her son's forehead, Regina learned how not to mother. Bath abandoned in the need to comfort her son, and her still roiling stomach- she carried him into his room, laid with him on the spider-man sheets she'd indulged him and just held him, nestled into the crook of her arm, until they both fell asleep.

She dreamt that night, that Cora worked out a way to come to Storybrooke and took Henry. No matter where she turned Cora stood in front of her, holding Henry in her arms, muttering about bloodlines and peasants, threatening to send him to fight the Ogres. When she tried to protest, tried to snatch her son back, Cora laughed and laughed and laughed, then waved a hand and lifted Regina up into the air, sealed her mouth so she couldn't scream, and turned to walk away. Regina is watching her mother leaving with Henry as she abruptly awakens, heart still pounding, sure that Henry's hurt, or crying or _gone, _desperate to hold him- and he reaches out a sleepy hand to her face and pats her cheek none too gently.

"Momma stop crying," his eyes were still closed, though his voice was very lucid, "Go t'sleep. Momma hav' bad dream?"

If there's nothing else she can do right in this life, she closes her eyes and prays to every God she'd heard of in her father's land and her mother's, may it be that he never has nightmares like hers. As he settles back down and into a soft snore, fully rolled away from her now, face turned away, she quickly and quietly angles her body off the bed and rolls adroitly to her feet. When he stays asleep she gives a small mental cheer and makes her way to her own room a few feet away. The least she can do is keep herself separate and ensure his sleep is long and fulfilling, he will never have to deal with her nightmares again, if she can help it.  
>There's no chance of a restful sleep for Regina, though after nearly 40 years of being unable to forget she's almost used to it, but she's thankful for the baby monitor sitting on her nightstand, transmitting the soothing, almost peaceful, sounds of Henry sleeping into her bedroom. She's learned over the past, almost two, years, how to use him to ward her sleep- so that she'll at least fall asleep; she's never lost the habit of trying to wake herself after a nightmare quietly, something for which she is almost thankful for now. She soothes herself to sleep by imagining a sleeping Henry, fueled by the sounds of peace and sleep drifting through the baby monitor. She can not imagine how anyone, let alone the woman who protected him for 9 months, gave him up- she can't imagine living without her heart.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

v.

When Henry is seven he starts asking questions about her father.

"Why'd you name me after him, Momma?" He's kneeling on a stool in the kitchen, 'helping' her make breakfast.  
>She nearly slices her finger off instead of the onion and puts down the knife before answering him. She's deliberately spoken very rarely of her mother, there's too much anger and hurt and pain to talk about that- and she's never, ever, spoken of Leopold to him. But her father, she's spun him tales of adventure that only happened in her imagination, not exactly lying, but not exactly telling the truth. They did ride horses together when she was young.<p>

"My father died and I was bereft -" she starts to tell the story, again.

"What's bare-ift, Momma?" Henry asks, brown eyes curious.

"I was very, very sad, Henry," She kisses his forehead and leans her left hip against the counter, "Very sad. He was very important to me and after he died I missed him constantly. He meant so much to me, that I named you, my little prince, after him."

He wrinkles his nose as she touches it, and asks, "He sanged that song to you, right, the one you sing to me at bedtime?"

"Yes," she smiles at him, trying to convey the actual depth of her feeling for him through her eyes and mouth, "He sangthat song to me. It's one of the few things that he taught me from his father's land, your great-grandfather, Xavier."

Henry turns and mulls this over, waiting for their omelettes and bacon to finish cooking before speaking again. "Did you have a Momma too, Momma?" He works it through in his head as he chews and swallows his bacon, "You have to have a Momma and Dad right? Did I have a Dad?"

She's been expecting this since his first question, but the seven minutes since has hardly been time enough to prepare anything and she still chokes on her eggs, but covers it quickly by drinking her coffee. She steadies herself with a quick hand pressed to her stomach; she's stared down the most evil people in the kingdoms, surely she can face one dark haired boy who holds her heart.

"My Mom," She swallows almost reflexively, even here she can't bring herself to call her that, "My Mother, she was a very hard worker, who worked very hard to help me succeed and -"

"Did she cook your eggs in the morning?" Henry interrupted again, shoveling his omelette into his mouth, "These are great, Momma, I love the red pepper flakes."

"No, she didn't cook them in the morning, she traveled for work a lot, my father is the one who made me eggs first." Her response is instantaneous and she knows there's no way to tell by looking at her how his questions are rocking her.  
>She eyes her son and then puts a hand on his fork , "Not so much in your mouth at once, Henry."<br>He grins up at her, eggs hanging between his missing front tooth, "But eef goot momma."  
>"And you know better than to talk with food in your mouth," She says reprovingly, but the smile turning up the corners of her mouth belies her words, "You don't have a Daddy like I did, Henry. You just have me."<p>

His mouth is finally empty, and he points the fork at her, and makes a decent imitation of her, saying, "I'm Momma and that's all you need!"

'And you're Henry, and you're all I have.' she thinks, finally picking up her fork and cutting into her omelette. It had only taken her 3 weekends to find the perfect amount of flakes so that Henry would eat it, (the books she kept reading, said at this age Henry was supposed to be a picky eater, and he was definitely that. She had to scrape the pepper off her fish, and the pepper off her pot roast.)  
>" 'his is great, Momma," Henry declared, dropping his fork and rubbing his belly before turning his face up to beam at her, brown eyes lighting up happily. "Almost better than your pancakes!"<p>

"Almost, oh yeah?" Regina asked, reaching for her coffee. "And what would you like to do with my free Saturday, Henry?"

"THE PARK!" He stood up quickly, before running out of the room, "Me and dino want to go to the park!"

"Then that park it is," she replied, also grinning. His unrestrained joy was beautiful to see, it leaked into the dark parts of her day and made it brighter. She leaned over and bopped him on the nose, "Anything my little Prince wants."


	7. Chapter 7

**vi.**

Henry is nine, midway through the third grade when he asks her to stop driving him to school and let him take the bus instead. She refuses for nearly a month, wanting to keep him close as much as possible, to keep him her little boy, to savor the time she has with him, before finally caving in. When he came to her in her home office, knocking politely, and holding a manilla folder full of papers he'd painstakingly written providing reasons why he should be allowed to ride the school bus to and from school- she'd sat stunned through his proposal, and nodded mutely as he gathered up his papers.

He tilted his head to the side, and she wondered when he'd so thoroughly become her son, "You okay, Mom? I just thought you'd like it more if it was all laid out all logical."

She laughed, and swept out from around her desk to pull him close to her one more time, hand running through his sandy hair, "I did appreciate it, Henry, and I can tell you worked hard on it. I suppose, if you're willing to accept a trial run, we can come to some kind of compromise."

And when he grins up at her in response, his eyes a much darker shade of brown than her own, she feels something _ping_ deep down in her chest, and a slight burning sensation whispers along her veins and through her heart. She stops for a second, and enjoys the feel of his head against her stomach, pushes away the fear that sounds remarkably like her Mother, that frisson of doubt and (_Love is weakness, Regina, how long will it take you to learn that? _sobbing, followed by, _I'm sorry Mother, I'll be good I promise. _and_ I know you will, I'll make sure of that, my love._) She wonders if she'll ever be healed, if her son, and learning how to hold on enough and not too much will be enough. Regina closes her eyes, holds him tightly, and wonders at the burning sensation in her chest- _If this is love, why is it still hurting?_

"So," Henry mumbles into her shirt, "Can we go get hot chocolate?"

She can't help but agree, thinking forward to a time when she won't get asked to go- she'll be left behind as he goes by himself. Not even the knowledge that he is going to be taught by Mary Margaret in the fall is enough to crush the joy seeping into her life, welling up slowly to water the desert she holds inside her, as Henry takes her hand and leads her to get their jackets.

At Granny's they fall into their pattern, Regina sits facing the door, her jacket folded carefully on the seat next to her, Henry sits opposite, his hat and jacket tossed aside haphazardly. He's trying to talk her into getting hot chocolate with him instead of coffee, but she's calmly deflecting him when Ruby walks over to take their orders.

"Hey Henry!" She greets the boy with a wide grin, "Hot chocolate?"

"Yeah, special treat, Ruby!" Henry nearly bounces in his seat before turning his smile on his mom, "And mom is going to get-"

"Henry," Regina shakes her head and then glances up at Ruby with steely eyes, "I'll have a coffee, Ms. Lucas."  
>Ruby nodded, eyes down turned, and loped off to fill their order even as Henry sighs and stares unhappily at his mother, "Mom, you said you'd get hot chocolate, you never get it and it's so good."<br>Henry flops over onto his jacket in dismay, "One day, Mom, one day I'll get you to try it, with cinnamon too, and you'll feel so bad you'll never tell me no when I ask for hot chocolate again!"

"Henry, dear, sit up." But she's feeling so mellow, this connection between them that means so much to her, _(__that hole she could never fill__)_, that there's nothing behind the order and Henry remains sprawled out.  
>"One day, Mom!" Henry pops up quickly as Ruby makes her way over with their order, and she winks at Henry as she hands him the cinnamon shaker.<p>

"Thank you, Ms. Lucas," Regina pretends not to notice the extra whipped cream she's added to Henry's drink and takes a sip out of her mug, "Tell your grandmother her coffee is quite satisfactory."

Ruby glance at Regina and tosses a few napkins on the table, "Will do, Madam Mayor."


	8. Chapter 8

interlude: refrain

[She sees herself in the tightening of his eyes and the head tilt as he glares angrily at her before storming off. All the books she's read have said the teenage years are tough, but he's not anywhere close to them- still has years to go. He keeps asking for his friends to come over, and she keeps saying no, and substituting more comics and books for other children (which worked for the first 9 years, thank you very much) and can't understand why it's not anymore.

"I hate you," he hurls over his shoulder as he stomps upstairs. "You're just the mayor, not some kinda evil Queen or something. Gosh!"

His door slams and she flinches, before sinking desperately into a chair in the dining room. Gone are the happy outings to Granny's, Henry would rather read his comics in his room- "_Alone because you won't even let me have friends over!" _and he ducks his head away when she reaches out to touch him. That's the part that hurts the most, and Regina is discovering her hands itch to tousle his hair, and she wants to hug him so badly it's a dull ache in her belly most nights. But she doesn't push when he so clearly wants nothing from her. Graham comes over and she supposes it's the wolf in him that's looking for a leader, and that's all she knows how to do, because she'll never be submissive to another man as long as she lives- but it doesn't really help, she can't cure this inexorable loneliness with sex and orgasms.

And she's not sure she can take it, this turning herself inside out for her son, and emptying herself on the off chance that she can do something right. She's tried holding on, tried keeping him close, tried reaching for him time and time again- hoping to get back to the hot chocolate nights, but she's gotten nothing but scorn thrown back at her and burnt fingers. If Henry doesn't think she's worth it, if Henry doesn't love her and doesn't know the truth, what does that actually say about Regina and the state of her soul. Her hands knot at her stomach, twisting and winding about themselves fruitlessly. The ache inside turns to a hot ember of fear that keeps her up most nights, listening to the house breathe around her, listening for her son, but every morning is doused with "_I hate you_" and "_You're the evil Queen. I don't want you to drive me to school._" and every evening is full of cooked favorites and half eaten dinners, punctuated by stomping feet and slamming doors after a shouted '_I despise you. You're not even my real mom_.' and all she can think is 'Maybe tomorrow will be better.' ]

[It's getting harder to stomach the _I hate you_'s and she finally enlists outside aid, sending Henry to Dr. Hopper every week. He's turned down the offer of family therapy, scraping Regina's soul bare when he states in his calm clear voice, with the inflections she realizes he picked up from her, "She's not my real mom." Even if it is true, that she _picked him_ and he's refusing to pick her in return.

And when she's waiting with Graham, because Henry has to _come back_, _has to come back, has to come back, _pacing in her foyer, she wonders if she should have sent the heartless-hunter out looking for him instead.

And then, she hears car doors, and sees Henry, and manages to get in a hug before he rips himself away from her.

And then she sees Henry in the way her head tilts and the way her smile is lopsided and her heart nearly stops.

"Hi." ]


	9. Chapter 9

vii.

Henry is fifteen, (_almost almost almost_) she is not ready to let go of that yet, even though he's now almost Emma's height- he passed Regina nearly a year ago, but Emma's got nearly three inches on her, and Charming is just over six feet tall- Regina can't bear to think of him being that much taller than her, but she suspects it's coming, soon. He's standing there, in front of her desk again, reminding her of his 'presentation' nearly six years ago. This time his voice is deeper, and his hair is cut differently, and his eyes don't meet hers, and his other mother is standing in the doorway encouraging them to talk to each other.

"I wanna know what it was like." For a second she panics and thinks he's asking about his great grandfather, and her eyes flash to Emma's because she promised not to- but the soft green eyes, so different from Henry's even if the face is similar, hold her there, don't let her float away in a tide of memories. "I wanna know about your mom."

And this isn't bad, this isn't terrible, his brown eyes, lighter than hers but sharper and more intuitive, (he's been writing for the school newspaper) flick up to meets hers quickly, "Gran's been telling me about what she remembers of her mom, and it's Mother's Day and Ma doesn't have any stories to tell and I know you- I just, I wanna know what it was like."

"What **she** was like," He clarifies, tossing a glance over his shoulder at Emma, and Regina is quite glad for the reprieve. "I wanna know about, like, where you come from, Mom."

Emma steps forward, boots clunky and ugly but every bit as essential to herself as the weapon she wore strapped to her hip. "He was asking about Cora," she explained, and shrugged a shoulder. "I told him to ask you, that all I could tell him is what I knew of her."

"I just want to understand," he's staring down at the ground, and shrugs one shoulder, so much like Emma it hurts. "I wanna know where I come from. And Archie said to ask-"

Regina rises smoothly from behind her desk, to make her way to her son. " 'Ask for what you need.' Yes, dear, I'm familiar with that one."

"Do you mind, badly, to tell me about it, Mom?" His eyes flick over to meet hers, and his _I need to know where I come from _is very clearly warring with his Charming genes and his _I need to protect_. And he doesn't come from her physically, there's no blood between them but there's so much of her in him, that even though he has some Emma in him there's even more Regina. It's there in the way he loves, like her, with faith and fingernails digging in and stubbornness. But he also loves like a typical Charming, with the careless grace of never knowing loss and the earnestness that she secretly prays he never loses.

"It's…" she pauses, hearing the blood rush in her ears, and seeing Emma _lean _forward towards the two of them, "It's very difficult to talk about, Henry."

He holds out his hand and she stares. When did her little Prince turn into such a grand Prince? Henry's hand is now bigger than hers (_she remembers when his hand wrapped around her finger, and his first word was 'apple' and his second word was 'mama' and his third word was 'super'. She remembers teaching him left from right and how to tie his shoes and remembers what a nightmare potty training him was. His hand wrapped around her finger and now his hand is bigger than hers.)_ when she slides hers into his, and though he can't tell- she internally starts to panic. And this is where their family works, this is where their family fits together- they're learning to build bridges out of sighs and unspoken thoughts. Even though there's no outward visual clue, Emma steps forward and around Henry to stand on the other side of Regina, just close enough that her peculiar particular scent, leather and that scent that Regina associates with the sheriff's station wafts over and calms Regina slightly. She follows Henry helplessly while he nods Emma over into the chair closest to Regina.  
>"I-" she nods reflexively and swallows a few times, "It's difficult to explain and it still… it still <em>hurts<em> Henry."

"That's why I brought, Ma," he nodded at the blond woman, who sat ill at ease in her own seat, "Cuz she kinda knows what it feels like to lose people."

Regina closed her eyes but couldn't stop the comment, "I thought her tag line was 'I can find anyone?' "  
>Emma laughed, snorted really, and leaned back in her seat, "Did some research online, Madam Mayor?"<p>

"I needed to know you were taking care of my son," Regina shot back, glad for this moment they could pretend. Banter was normal, letting her cover the nervousness, letting her get solid footing beneath her before stepping back on the sand.

"Mom-" Henry started, but Regina toes off her heels and brings her legs up onto the chair with her, and puts an arm around him, and shakes her head.

"You may be asking the questions Henry, but you're still my son." Tossing a half-apologetic glance at Emma, she amends, "Our son."

"My earliest coherent memory, was of being in trouble. It didn't matter much what I did, but I very rarely did anything right." Regina's voice was clear, as though she was speaking about someone else, "I loved my mother with my whole heart, mostly because I didn't- I don't- know how to not love like that."

She glanced over at Emma, who was sitting cross legged in her chair, elbows on her knees, leaning forward as though entranced- and caught her eye, "When I love, Henry, I don't know how to stop. And when the person you love most in the world is the person who's hurting you the most, it's hard to understand."

"Understand what, Mom?" Regina rubbed his shoulder, thankful that none of her darkness had rubbed off on Henry, thankful beyond everything measurably that that year hadn't destroyed his faith in her, or ruined his ability to love her.

She shook her head, and fought to keep the tremor out of her voice, "I tried for a very long time to find someone to love me, Henry, the way I suspected that people should be loved. And I'm not making excuses for what I did, or what I was then- but I didn't find that until I found you."

Regina pressed a kiss into his head, "Somehow I think, Henry, that I always loved you- I just needed to find you first. I never told you but- I took you back to the adoption agency once."

Emma made a sound of discontent, she'd not heard this story either, which Regina ignored, "But I couldn't do it, I couldn't give you up. You were nothing but a crying, pooping, eating, vomiting, wriggling… _child_. And I already loved you more than I had words to describe."

Emma moved out of her chair to sit on the floor in front of Regina's seat, so that all Regina could see of her was her blond hair, and her bowed head. Regina slid her foot out from under her, and placed it next to the younger woman, who reached up and held it. Didn't do anything, just… letting Regina know she was there, like Regina was letting Emma know she was there.

"Imagine," Regina said, holding Henry tightly, "Imagine space. It's beyond cold, beyond frigid, the winter our heater died and Sheriff Humbert had to fix it. And you travel through space, and it's so cold, and then you see a star. And it's burning. It's just floating and existing and hot, burning, broiling, scorching you. That's what is was like, Henry. I alternated between Mars and Venus, sometimes getting burnt, sometimes freezing to death- and every once in a glorious while, I was just right, I was Earth."

The room was quiet, she could feel Emma's fingers on her foot, could feel Henry's warm body, and the slight smell of 'outside' on his skin.

"My earliest memory," Regina closed her eyes, and thought back, "I got in trouble for something, I'm fairly sure it was for running inside. It wasn't 'what a princess' would do. And while my grandfather was a king, I was half-commoner, I was no princess. I knew that from an early age."

Emma's fingers tightened slightly on her foot but she didn't interrupt. Not that there was much she could say, walking around town with her jeans and her sheriff's badge- she was no princess either. That suited both of them just fine, both the non-princesses.

"When I was nine my mother decided to make an example of my best friend." Henry gasped, and turned his face upwards, tears swimming in his eyes.

"She killed your best friend?" He sounded shocked, and she hadn't even gotten to Daniel yet. Perhaps she'd save that for another day though.

"My horse, Gonturan." Regina tilted her head and though for a second, "My father brought him back for me when I was young, so that we could grow together. I spent every second I was spared in the stables, away from my mother. I was like a little deserted island, and Gonturan was my lighthouse. Father wouldn't speak against mother- I asked him once to take me away from her, told him I didn't want to marry the king. He asked me if I had cold feet. That's when I realized that he loved me, just not enough. I could never tell if it was something my mother did to him, clearly she didn't have his heart- but he never took me away, never tried to save me."

"That's bullshit!" Henry nearly exploded at her words, leaning back away from her.

"Henry!" Regina exclaimed. But he casually put his hand on her leg and bulldozed right over whatever correction she was going to make, "What kinda father wouldn't save his kid? What kinda person-"

"Kid-" Emma warned him in a low tone.

"Ma," he challenged her, "You wouldn't leave me like that if Mom was actually hurting me would you?"

That hit a little too close to home, and Regina closed her eyes and thought back, even as Emma responded.

"I think that's enough for tonight, Henry, don't you?" Emma swung up on her feet, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and regarded the two of them with wide and luminous eyes.

Regina turned away, it still hurt to see pity on her face and tears in her eyes. Henry was staring at Emma, and Regina could see the wheels turning in his head, and he glanced suspiciously at Regina. Who widened her eyes and looked as innocent as she could, there were things that were none of his business, and their casual exploration of friendship and whatever else lay between them was firmly on the side of 'none of anyone's business'.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Henry replied casually, giving Regina a hug and rising from the couch slowly, "I'm gonna go finish working on that soliloquy from _Julius Ceasar_."

"_The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves_." Emma still didn't look away from Regina, "It's one of the few I liked when we read it in high school."

"Yeah, it's okay." Regina rolled her eyes at her son's droll tone, he'd told her at dinner two days ago how much he liked it, better than _Romeo and Juliet_, which he'd had to read for freshman English. He studied her carefully, brown eyes moving across her face and his voice filled with childish concern, how had she not noticed how deep it had gotten? "Mom are you sure-"

"I'm fine Henry," Regina interrupted, still facing away from Emma, "Do you want me to come up and help you memorize it? I can show you a trick I learned-"

He shook his head vehemently, "No, I'm gonna call Paige, work with her. Thanks though!"

Sliding out of the room quickly, before either woman could comment on his last remark, Regina was finally left alone with Emma. Emma kept her eyes on Regina, and Regina made a point to look across the room towards the doorway, away from Emma. Silence reigned for almost a full five minutes before Regina finally gave up, and gave in, and looked back up at Emma. She hated that the other woman was taller than her, and without her heels on standing up would still put her at a disadvantage, she hated letting Emma Swan have the upper hand so easily.

Emma's soft green eyes were filled with tears though none were spilling over, and Regina whispered quietly, "I don't deserve those, Emma."

Emma reached down, and tugged on Regina's wrist gently, pulling the older woman to her feet and against her. There was nothing more than _comfort_ in her grasp, something Regina couldn't remember getting anywhere else. Ever.

"I can imagine, Regina," Emma's mouth was just over her left ear, she could feel the exhalation of breath moving her hair, "I imagine a dark haired, dark eyed child- crying in the dark. I imagine her wishing on every star, every night, for nothing more than her mother to love her."

Regina closed her eyes, and basked in the love that was emanating from the blonde woman, but didn't reply.

"I imagine," Emma whispered, "being unable to tell the king no, being unable to tell his daughter no. I imagine you turning yourself inside out, trying to find the secret that lets you fall into orbit around your mother's star without freezing or burning."

"There was no secret, Emma," Regina's keeping her eyes closed, "I didn't deserve-"

"No, no, no," Emma tightened her grip on Regina, their hug going slightly past the comfortable stage, "Everyone deserves to be loved."

She pulled back from Regina, who still kept her eyes firmly closed, she couldn't stand the pity she'd see shining out from this woman literally made of magic, "Especially children. You got it right with Henry, Regina, he's never felt that cold or that heat- he's never wondered or wandered in his orbit."

Emma let go of her but Regina felt her hands slip up her arm and catch her chin, gently. "Regina, you didn't deserve that- I'll keep saying it until you believe it."

"Well, you'll be saying it for a long time, Emma Swan." Regina finally, finally, opened her eyes, and nearly gasped at the look on Emma's face.

It wasn't pity- it wasn't disgust at the broken, shattered woman standing in front of her (_not broken, not broken, not broken) _it was softer and gentler than that. Regina doesn't know what it is, has never seen it on someone's face directed at her.

"I had people who helped me, Regina," Emma's voice was quiet, "As angry as I got, as much trouble as I got in, there was always someone looking out for me. Who was looking out for you?"

"My father was always there for me," Regina replied smoothly, cooly, stepping back from the younger woman, "and he-"

"He couldn't fucking stand up to your mother, his own wife-" Emma interrupted, green eyes rolling, "I don't think that was the kinda help you needed, and look-"

"You don't know what it was like!" Regina shouted, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. As if she could stitch the pieces of her heart and soul back together with sheer willpower. Emma stared at her for a second, eyes wide, fading into a softer green, instead of that wild sparking green that threw fireworks at Regina, accidentally burning her, setting her on fire, turning her to ash in her anger. "You don't know what it was like living there, with her. Her magic kept him in line, and she'd never hesitated to use it on me to ensure my compliance."

"It was like me and Robin, that first time," Regina knew her eyes were her weakness, she never could disguise them well enough for her mother to leave her alone, and it seemed that Emma had the same ability to examine her soul through them. She continued, softly, "I could have gone in, and gone after whatever happiness was left to me, but I couldn't imagine myself without that pain, without the anger. And when I finally returned to the palace, I realized that no matter what that self-righteous fairy had said or done- she'd never **never** have convinced Leopold to let me go. Imagine how that would have made him look, his younger-"

"Much younger," Emma murmured angrily, shaking her head in disbelief.

Regina inclined her head, it was a truth after all, "- his much younger wife, runs off and leaves with another man."

Regina is quiet, "As absent as my husband was by then, we never would have made it that far. We'd never have made it."


	10. Chapter 10

[coda: swan song

"I apologized to your grandmother." Regina announced to Henry, face turned resolutely down to her food, cutting her steak into tiny bite sized pieces, the only visible means of detecting her nervousness, "For trying to kill her."

It was Friday, Emma's night to come over for dinner, though she'd started showing up most Wednesday's and Thursday's as well. But Friday was a sure bet that she'd be there, especially since Henry had talked Regina into getting the air popper and a subscription to netflix- and Friday was their night to watch movies with Henry.

Henry and Emma exchanged glances, and Emma tilted her head questioningly. Henry jutted one shoulder slightly and asked, "Uhm, that's really great Mom, but why now?"

Regina shrugged, and kept her face turned down even as she started eating her steak, "No reason. I just thought it would be a good step towards repairing our relationship."

"You were her step-mom," Emma pointed out with her fork, "Is that the relationship you're going for there?"

Regina shook her head, then sighed loudly, "I asked her to bring Neal over."

"You what?" Henry and Emma blurted out in tandem, Emma put her fork down on the table.

"Why would you do that Regina?" Emma wondered, seriously confused, "He's like, two and half and she hasn't even started potty training him."

Regina finally looked up, brown eyes bright, "I know, and it's high time someone started talking to her about it. I'm going to help her, I'm going to teach her to be a mother."

Emma and Henry sat back in their chairs, as Regina beamed at them, "I have it all planned out. He's going to _love_ me."

They exchanged glances and Emma shook her head, "Not worth it, kid."

It isn't until much later, after Henry is snoring happily in his own bed that Emma and Regina talk about it. Regina is sitting on the couch, curled up around the half filled glass in her hand, and Emma suspects that she's partially buzzed but likes to see the other woman relaxed. She wallows in these moments, no one else ever gets to see Regina this relaxed, and the other woman is just _glorious_.

"So, you wanna help Mary Margaret with Neal?" Emma asks quietly into the darkness. They have all their conversations under cover of darkness and all their discussion end with the sun rising- she tries not to see it as a portent of their relationship, but time moves so slowly in small towns, and she can't help but wonder _how long_ is long enough.

"Yes, I think I can offer a lot of advice on raising a beautiful little boy." Emma can see Regina's teeth gleam in the dark. Of course she'd be grinning. Emma wants to interrupt, and say something cheesy like 'you have galaxies in your eyes' or 'your smile reminds me of the desert after the rain' but knows better. She lets Regina continue uninterrupted.  
>"She'd also mentioned that she'd like a break, to maybe have a date night with David. I mentioned that I wouldn't mind helping her. After she stopped laughing, I told her I was serious and that she should call me. Then I apologized, and left."<p>

Emma closed her eyes, and thought about it, Regina in their little apartment, sweeping in grandly and saying something just slightly less than rude about how to raise their son. Her mother laughing probably doubled over, really belly laughing until she realizes that Regina is serious. And then just to confuse Mary Margaret even more, Regina apologizing for trying to kill her so many times and sweeping out the door just like she'd entered.

"Oh yeah," Emma responded finally, turning to face Regina, "This is gonna be good, I wanna hear all about this."]


End file.
